Dean Winchester - Tales from the north
by ilmer480
Summary: Sam is dead. Trapped in Lucifer's cage with Michael and the devil himself. Dean never went home to Lisa. He could not just live a happy apple pie life. He did every possible thing trying to safe Sam, but failed miserably. Years has past and Dean now lives in a small cabin in Scandinavia, away from it all. However, he still hunts the Supernatural.


Dean Winchester Tales From The North

 _Sam is dead. Trapped in Lucifer's cage with Michael and the devil himself. Dean never went home to Lisa. He could not just live a happy apple pie life. He did every possible thing trying to safe Sam, but failed miserably. Years has past and Dean now lives in a small cabin in Scandinavia, away from it all. However, he still hunts the Supernatural. He teamed up with a fake clairvoyant. She has a website were people contact her about paranormal occurrences. Ninety-nine percent of the time, she sends out Dean, to solve their problems._

 **The Letter;**

Dear Lisa

I think my sister poisoned our parents. They won't wake up.  
It's not her fault! There's a man in our well. He tells her to do stuff.  
He wants us to come down to him, but I don't want to.  
Last night, there was a shadow in my room. I think it was him. He threatened me.  
He told me, that if I didn't come, he would eat my sister, when she did.  
I don't know who he is, but I don't think he's human.  
My grandma always talked about you. You once helped her "clean" her room.  
Even though she died last Christmas, she always seemed so happy after you helped her.  
Can you please help? Can you please come and clean our well?

Please  
Emil

 **Part 1 – The Thing That Should Not Be**

He knocked on the door. It opened with a strange creaking. It certainly wasn't a burglarproof house. Luckily, Dean was not a thief. Not tonight.  
He entered the main hallway. The floor littered with creased clothing and a conspicuously ugly snowsuit. He had seen a lot of them lately. The winters were bad up here. This house, though, had a good thermal. He wrapped of his scarf before he announced his arrival.  
"Hello," he shouted. "Is anybody home?"  
No answer.  
He listened to the silence for a while. No response were coming, so he started walking. He opened the first door on the right. It took some time for him to realize that this was actually the kitchen.  
If the hallway looked messy, it was a speck of dust, compared to this chaotic scenery. He made the right choice, when he decided to keep his boots on. The sound of broken glass made him company, as he walked through the inside of a trashcan once perceived as a kitchenette.  
He strolled through a dining room, just as grimy as the kitchen, and then entered the living room, were he found them; the parents. Both of them lying unconscious on the floor.  
Quickly he bowed down to check for a pulse. They were both breathing, even though they looked pale as death. They must have been "sleeping" for a long time. It looked like they had been dragged in here, rather than passing out on the spot.  
"Who are you?" a child voice asked, abruptly, from the other end of the room.  
Dean looked up. An about twelve-year-old girl was staring at him. She had lipstick smeared over most of her lover face.  
"I'm Dean," he said "and who might you be? Young Courtney Love?"  
"I'm Sis. Why are you here?" she said.  
"Well, I think your brother wrote to my boss about some kind of a…"  
"For fuck sakes! I've told that little weasel that we're doing fine without them," she pointed at the slumbering parents. "We're fine! We don't need your help. Fuck off to your boss and tell her to eat a bowl of fuck."  
"Wow, wow, listen Lindsey Lohan, you're not the Prime Minister just because your parents are taking a Russian nap. Where's the other kid? Your brother?"  
"They're not napping, they're dead. Never waking up again, no matter how much Emil is trying to wake them. But now he can't wake them anymore. He can never wake them up again. Are you listening, Emil?"  
Dean followed the girls eyes to a large closet. He presumed that there was someone in there. He stood up and walked to the closet.  
"How dare you!" she shouted.  
He opened the closet and saw a boy lying calmly on the bottom. His hands and feet were tied with shoelaces and he had a strip of Disney-decorated duct tape strapped to his mouth.  
The shoelaces were easy to loosen and Dean let the boy tear of the tape himself.  
"I guess you're the boy who wrote to Lisa," Dean said, "She's a bit under the weather, I'm here on her behalf."  
"Don't talk to him, Emil!" Sis shouted. "He's not even Lisa. He can't do anything. He's not a _clarinet_!"  
"If he's here instead of her, he may as well be a _clarinet_ ," Emil said in a steady tone. "Can you help us Mister?"  
"I'm here to try," Dean said. "Can you show me the well?"  
"He can't talk to him," Sis said. "He's just going to hurt him."  
"Do I look like I'm capable of hurting someone?" Dean now shouted. He ripped of his long jacket and revealed a crumbled shirtsleeve where there should have been a left arm.  
"Eeeeeeew!" the girl said.  
Dean covered it with his jacket again. Although it was just a simple reaction from a child, he still felt exposed when he didn't hide his disability.  
Emil was now standing: "How did you lose your arm, Mister?" he asked. Compared to his looney sister, he seemed like the most mundane kid in the world.  
"Long story," Dean said. "Let's just say I deserved it."  
The boy seemed to respect the short answer. At least he didn't buzz more about it.  
"You can take your one wank arm and go home," Sis said. "We are happy here."  
"Is that true?" Dean asked. "You like living in this mess? I even don't suck that much at cleaning, and I'm freakin' Tony Iommi's less lucky cousin."  
"It's not that bad," Sis said. "We have cleaning day on Sundays."  
"In which decade?" Dean asked.  
She didn't answer that. A silent moment appeared.  
"She smashed the phone because I tried calling the police." Emil said.  
"They'll just try to remove our friend, Emil." Sis said. "Can't you see that?"  
"He's not our friend, Sis. He threatened to eat you."  
"I'm sure he's just fucking around. Who wouldn't eat this sweet ass?" She slapped her shapeless childbutt.  
She sounded like someone who just binge-watched ten seasons of Teenage Moms. Media clearly easily corrupted her, Dean thought. Not surprising that she was the one being brainwashed by a Supernatural force in the well.  
"Look, Paris, you've seen how incapitated I am," Dean gazed at his left arm. "and as you appointed, I'm no _clairvoyant_ , so wouldn't it be okay for me to take a look at the well? I'm just curious to meet your friend."  
Sis looked at Dean for a long time. Her lips were moving. He assumed that she was trying to think.  
"And what if he doesn't want to meet you?" she said with a smug smile.  
"Then I will leave you guys again, and maybe even help tying your brother with some stronger cords." Dean said. He winked at Emil, but he looked a little nervous.  
The girl suddenly seemed relaxed. She smiled with her lipstickgreased mouth, which made her look even more like a maniac. "Well, a quick look then," she said. "But, you have to promise to tie Emil so tight that his hands turn white."


End file.
